"Do I detect a note of disenchantment?"

"No. You detect the whole damned opera."

"Thanks anyway. Maybe next time." Saucerhead's place was a one-room walk-up without furniture enough for company. I lived in places like that before I scored big enough to buy the house I share with the Dead Man.

Saucerhead tucked his thumbs into his belt, leaned back, smirked and nodded, nodded and smirked. A smirk on his ugly face is a wonder to behold. He ever holds one too long the Crown might declare it a national park. He claims he's all human, but from his size and looks you've got to suspect he has a little troll or giant in him. "You ain't ready to deal, Garrett, I can't say I got a lot of sympathy for you."

"I could've gone to some second-rate swillhouse and drowned my sorrows in ardent spirits, pouring my woes into the ears of sympathetic strangers, but no, I had to come down here... "

"That works for me," Puddle kicked in when I hit the part about ardent spirits. "Don't let us hold you up."

I never did count him as a friend. He just came with my friend Morley—though Morley's friendship can be suspect enough. "You take the joy out of the Joy House, Puddle."

"Hey, Garrett. The place was rocking till you walked in."

Saucerhead's pal Licks wasn't even gurgling now, but he kept puffing like a volcano and grinning. I was getting the smoke secondhand but was ready to start humming myself. I lost track of what I was saying, started wondering why the place was called the Joy House, which made it sound a lot more exotic than the vegetarian hangout it is.

Licks suddenly shot up like he'd been goosed. He headed for the door, sort of floating, as though his toes barely reached the floor. I'd never seen anyone do weed so heavy. I asked Tharpe, "Where'd you find him?"

"Licks? He found me. Him and some other guys want to organize the musicians."

"Say no more." I could imagine their interest in Saucerhead. Tharpe makes his living convincing people. His technique involves bending limbs in unnatural directions.

Two or three Morleys descended the stair from the second floor, staring toward Licks as the musician hit the exit. Morley had heard about me. Puddle had warned him through the speaking tube to his office upstairs. Hard to tell through the smoke, but Dotes looked irked.

Morley is a breed, part dark-elf, part human. The elf side dominates. He's short, trim, so handsome it's a sin. And sin he does, as often as he can with anybody's wife who'll hold still. He'd grown a little pencil-stroke mustache. He had his black hair slicked back. He was dressed to kill—though his type looks good in anything. He drifted our way, showing a lot of pointy teeth.

"What's that thing living under your nose?"

Saucerhead offered a crude suggestion. Morley ignored him. "You quit working, Garrett? You haven't been around."

"Why work if I don't have to?" I tried looking smug—though my finances weren't comfortable. It costs to keep house.

"You have something going?" He occupied the chair vacated by Licks, waved at persistent weed smoke.

"Not hardly." I gave him my sad tale of woe. He laughed too.

"Imaginative, Garrett. I almost believe you. I have to admit, when you make them up they sound like things that could happen. So what is it? Something hush-hush? I haven't heard about anything shaking. This town's getting dull."

He talked that long only because I was stammering. "Damn! Not you too!"

"You never come around except when you need muscle to hoist you out of a hole you've dug yourself."

Not fair. Not true. I've even gone so far as to eat some of the cow chow his joint serves. Once I even paid for it. "You don't believe me? Then tell me this. Where's the woman?"

"What woman?" Dotes and Saucerhead and Puddle all grinned like shiteating possums. Thought they had me on the run.

"You claim I'm working. Where's the woman? I get into one of my weird cases, there's always a lovely around. Right? So you see a honey on my arm? Hell, my luck's so bad I'd almost go to work just to... Huh?"

They weren't paying attention. They were staring at something behind me.

She liked black. She wore a black raincloak over a black dress. She wore high-top black boots. Raindrops shimmered like diamonds in her raven hair. She wore black leather gloves. I imagined she'd lost a black hat and veil somewhere. Everything about her was black except her face. That was as pale as bone. She was about five-six. She was young. She was beautiful. She was frightened.

I said, "I'm in love."

Morley's sense of humor deserted him. He told me, "You don't want anything to do with her, Garrett. She'll get you dead."

The woman's gaze, arrogant from amazing black eyes, passed over us as though we didn't exist. She chose to perch at a table isolated from those that were occupied. Some of Morley's patrons shivered as she passed, pretended they didn't see her.

Interesting.

I looked some more. She was about twenty. She wore lip paint so red it looked like fresh blood. That and her pallor gave me a chill. But no. No vampire would dare TunFaire's inhospitable streets.

I was intrigued. Why was she afraid? Why did she scare those thugs? "Know her, Morley?"

"No. I don't. But I know who she is."

"So?"

"She's the kingpin's kid. I saw her out there last month."

"Chodo's daughter?" I was stunned. Also a lot less romantically inclined.

Chodo Contague is TunFaire's emperor of crime. If it's on society's underbelly and there's a profit in it, Chodo has a piece of it.

"Yes."

"You went out there? You saw him?"

"Yes." He sounded a little vague, there.

"He's really alive, then." I'd heard but I'd had trouble believing it.

See, my last case, the one with all the redheads, ended up with me and my friend Winger and Chodo's two top lifetakers going after the bastard. Winger and I took a powder before the dirty deed, figuring we'd be next if we hung around. When we left, Crask and Sadler had the old boy ready to go on the meathook. But it hadn't taken. Chodo was still boss wazoo. Crask and Sadler were still his top headcrushers, like they'd never had a thought of putting him to sleep.

That worried me. Chodo had seen me plain enough. He wasn't the forgiving sort.

"Chodo's daughter! What's she doing in a dump like this?"

"What do you mean, a dump like this?" You can't even hint that the Joy House might be less than top of the mark without Morley gets his back up.

"I mean, obviously she thinks she's a class act. Whatever you or I think, she's got to figure this's a dive. This isn't the Hill, Morley. It's the Safety Zone."

That's Morley's neighborhood. The Safety Zone. It's an area where folks of disparate species get together for business reasons with a lessened risk of getting murdered. It's not your upper-crust part of town.

All the time we're rattling our mouths, whispering, I'm trying to think of some good excuse for going over there and telling the girl she's made me her love slave. And all the time I'm doing that, my little voice is telling me: don't make a damned fool of yourself, any kid of Chodo's is going to be murder on the hoof.

I must have twitched. Morley grabbed my arm. "You're getting desperate, hit the Tenderloin."

Common sense. Don't stick your hand in a fire. I hung on to my ration of sense. I settled back. I had it under control. But I couldn't help staring.

The front door exploded inward. Two very large brunos brought half the storm in with them. They held the door open for a third man, who came in slow, like he was onstage. He was shorter by a couple of inches but no less muscular. Somebody had used his face to draw a map with a knife. One eye was half-shut permanently. His upper lip was drawn into a perpetual sneer. He radiated nasty. "Oh, boy," Morley said.